The Billionaire Ex-Wife's Regret

Chapter 7

Vivian Xavier's fingers trembled slightly as she hung up the phone. Without hesitation, she pulled up flight schedules on her computer and rushed out of her office, not even stopping to grab her coat.

"Ms. Xavier, you have an important meeting this afternoon—" her secretary called after her.

"Cancel everything." She pressed the elevator button without looking back.

At the airport terminal, Adrian Foster caught up to her, breathless. He grabbed her wrist, his eyes red-rimmed. "You're really leaving?"

Vivian yanked her hand free, her voice icy. "I've already arranged new accommodations for you."

"For him?" Adrian's voice shook. "After he humiliated you in front of everyone, you still—"

"Enough." Her sharp glare silenced him. "Remember your place."

The boarding announcement echoed through the hall. She turned to leave, but Adrian suddenly shouted after her, "Do you really think he'll forgive you?"

Vivian paused mid-step—but didn't look back.

On the plane, she scrolled through her phone's photo album. In every picture, Samuel Sinclair gazed at her with quiet tenderness. Her fingertips brushed the screen as if she could touch him through it.

The moment she landed, she headed straight to a tattoo parlor. She handed her phone to the artist. "I want this exact design."

"This area will be painful. We can use anesthesia—"

"No." She unbuttoned her collar. "Start now."

The needle pierced her skin, sending waves of pain that beaded sweat on her forehead. But she bit her lip and stayed silent. Seven hours later, an intricate rose tattoo bloomed beneath her collarbone—an exact match to the one on Samuel's left shoulder.

She bought the most expensive white roses and carefully selected a gift. During the drive to the vineyard estate, she rehearsed her words over and over.

"Samuel, I was wrong."

"Samuel, come home with me."

"Samuel, I—"

The estate gates loomed ahead. Her heart pounded so hard it threatened to break free.

But when she stepped into the garden, bouquet in hand, every practiced phrase died in her throat.

Under the sunset's glow, Samuel was draping a coat over a woman's shoulders. She smiled up at him—and he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

The roses slipped from Vivian's grasp, petals scattering across the ground.